


is it love?

by bondingtime (Word_Addict)



Series: avengers soulmate au [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Blow Jobs, Bruce & Hulk Interaction, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Banner-centric, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Explicit Consent, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hulk and Thor Interaction, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Nightmares, Only if you squint - Freeform, Orgy, POV Clint Barton, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Coital Cuddling, Simultaneous Orgasm, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spooning, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unresolved Tension, again kind of, dealt with by sex, even natasha, even though there's no bdsm, it's barely there, kind of, there just aren't any other girls in this story, very minor angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Word_Addict/pseuds/bondingtime
Summary: answer: yesA surprise discovery of soulmates leads to possibly the greatest team-bonding exercise ever, and nobody's complaining.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> instead of doing my english paper i wrote almost 4k words of avengers smut. go me.

“Wait, you mean you _all_ have my soulmark?” Tony asks.

It’s movie night in the Tower, and even though they always start off watching something, most of the time it trails off into conversations and chatter. On the more notable occasions there have been fistfights, and, once, even a declaration of love. Overall, it’s always a very interesting night.

“Um, I mean, this is it, right?” Steve asks, pulling down the collar of his shirt just enough for Tony to see, yup, that’s his soul mark right there on Captain America’s chest.

“Yeah,” Tony says, playing it off as cool as possible. He’s had Steve’s trademark shield on his back ever since he was born, but it was one thing to be someone’s soulmate and another thing to know it was reciprocated. “That’s it.”

“Does this mean you have mine?” Steve asks, and that’s where shit hits the fan.

Tony sighs for a moment and then decides to bite the bullet. After all, what’s the worst case scenario of being the soulmate of every Avenger? Forcing his brain to stop actually answering that question – _it was rhetorical, goddamnit_ – he pulls his shirt off in one fluid motion.

“Holy _shit_ ,” from Clint is the only sound from any of the others for a long moment.

Tony’s torso is scarred and bruised from lab accidents and other, worse, things, but the only thing anyone’s focused on are the soulmarks. Half-twisted in his seat so he can see them all, Tony doesn’t know what to think of the silence. Is it good? Bad? Are they just surprised, or disgusted?

He turns around to face them, not bothering to put his shirt back on, and then Steve surprises him and follows suit, stripping off his own shirt.

Tony is momentarily shocked because there’s Steve Rogers, Captain America, national icon, shirtless in front of him, but he recovers soon because not only is there _his_ mark on Steve’s torso, but there’s Thor’s and Clint’s and Bruce’s and Natasha’s. There’s also a red star on his left shoulder, but Tony decides to ask about that later. “Wow.”

It’s all he can say, all he can _think_ for a long moment, because there it is. Proof he isn’t the only strange one is spread out all over Steve’s chest and back.

“I didn’t have all of them before I woke up from the ice,” Steve explains, and, yeah, that would make sense why the footage of Howard’s experiment only showed the star.

It’s silent for a moment, and then Natasha takes off her shirt and Tony momentarily loses the capacity to think.

She has just as many scars as Tony, possibly more, but the soulmarks are there too. She shares the red star with Steve, and there’s the symbol of a handgun on her lower back, but all of the Avengers are represented.

Tony can’t come up with anything to say. Having Steve shirtless in front of him is one thing, but Natasha too? Then Clint strips, and Tony feels sure he’s died and gone to heaven. The archer is heavily muscled, and lines of definition stand out on his arms and shoulders. Steve, of course, is the quintessential male standard, but Clint isn’t too hard on the eyes either.

At some point when Tony’s distracted, Bruce and Thor strip as well and soon all six of them are sitting shirtless in a circle.

Thor has more marks then the rest of them, but he’s been alive for longer and Tony can’t muster up any more jealousy than he can for Steve, or Natasha, or Clint. He clears his throat again to speak.

“So, we’re all soulmates?” It’s obvious, but he can’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t be either awkward or inappropriate.

“Verily,” Thor answers with a nod, looking Steve up and down. With the expression the thunder god has on, Tony doesn’t feel so bad, and then he sees the way America’s golden boy is eyeing Natasha, and he _really_ doesn’t feel bad.

“It – it would appear so,” Bruce stammers, a bit nervous.

Natasha scoots across the circle to sit between him and Clint. “Don’t worry,” she says, much more gently than Tony would suspect she could. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“Indeed it is not,” Thor says. “On Asgard it is an honourable thing to be soulbound to many!”

“So, is this normal?” Steve asks, gesturing between the six of them, and it isn’t just Tony’s eyes following the movement of his arm.

Thor shrugs, in a manner Tony takes to mean ‘maybe, maybe not’ and Natasha grins.

It’s not her dangerous grin, this is one that’s not threatening at all, happy even, and Tony thinks it isn’t a bad look on her at all. “We’re _soulmates_ ,” she says, and she sounds amazed and contented all at once.

Before anyone can register the motion, she’s sitting in Clint’s lap and they’re kissing. It isn’t intended to make anyone upset or awkward and after a couple seconds they stop. Natasha stays where she is, her legs in Bruce’s lap and smiles at Clint. “We found our soulmates,” she says to him, and Tony wonders if those are tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Yeah, we did,” he says back.

Tony’s wondering what do now – is there a precedent for six soulmates all finding each other by stripping? – when Thor leans over from where he’s sitting next to Steve and kisses the super-soldier.

No one says anything, but everyone’s staring at the two of them. Tony can’t quite believe what he’s seeing – this is _Captain America_ kissing _Thor_ – and neither can anyone else, judging by the silence.

It’s a gentle kiss and not rushed and both Thor and Steve are smiling when they pull away. Clint is the first to find his voice.

“Is this a thing, then?” he asks, gesturing between the two of them. “Because I don’t care if it is, but, _damn_ is it hot!”

Natasha smacks him on the arm, and he makes a face. “Come on, Nat, it’s true!”

“Nay,” Thor answers, putting his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I harbor no previous affection for Steven Rogers; only the short typically shown for soulmates.”

And there it is. Tony’s pretty sure Bruce is going to faint, and from the heat in his own face, he’s turning an interesting shade of red. He won’t deny that the possibility was there, but he never imagined it would just be stated out in the open like that. Though, if anyone would, it would be Thor.

“Well,” Bruce begins, “this is an atypical situation – “

Natasha cuts him off by climbing out of Clint’s lap and kissing the scientist straight on the mouth. “Our whole _lives_ have been atypical,” she says after a minute, looking around the circle and daring anyone to disagree.

Tony is very aware, suddenly, of the effect all this kissing is having on his body, and he clears his throat. “So, is anyone going to say what I think we’re all thinking…” he says, letting the sentence trail off.

“Orgy,” Clint states, smiling wickedly at Tony.

Bruce makes a surprised noise, but Natasha starts kissing him again and he doesn’t complain. Clint watches the display get more heated, one hand slipping into his jeans.

“Is that what you were thinking?” Steve asks, an inch from Tony’s ear, and Tony jumps.

“Um, what?” he asks, his train of thought completely derailed by Steve’s nearness.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Steve murmurs and then he’s kissing Tony.

It’s both nothing like what Tony expected and everything like it all at once. Steve is fairly experienced, which Tony wasn’t expecting from someone who grew up in the forties. He tilts his mouth against Tony’s, asking permission and Tony opens his mouth just a little bit. Steve takes the invitation, slipping his tongue inside and then it’s all heat and passion and metaphorical fireworks.

Tony didn’t think he’d ever find someone that could make his mind shut off, but when Steve pulls away, his lips slightly puffy and red, Tony realizes he hasn’t been aware of anything that’s been going on. “Damn,” he mutters, staring up at Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve grins, suddenly shy again, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s usually the response I get.”

Normally, a sentence like that would be worth expanding on, but Tony’s pants are getting _really_ uncomfortable, and he has a feeling Steve’s are too, if the tent he’s showing is any indication. “You want any help with that?” he asks seductively.

Steve grins, his eyes already half-lidded with desire and reaches out to palm Tony. “You think you can take me?” he asks, the words almost a challenge.

Tony gives him a sharp, short laugh and pulls his head down for another kiss. This is one is hot and heavy, all of the desire and frustration Tony’s felt ever since his met Steve poured into it. Steve breaks it off and nips at Tony’s collarbone, hands going to the button of his pants.

As Steve slips his hands into Tony’s jeans, the engineer starts to see stars. He never thought something as simple as a handjob would be able to get him off, but, damn, he’s seconds from coming and they haven’t even gotten to the good stuff.

Over Steve’s shoulder he sees Natasha kneeling on the floor with Clint inside her from behind; one of her hands on her clit and the other one tangled in Bruce’s hair. Bruce doesn’t seem to mind, his normally placid demeanor abandoned in favour of gasping and moaning for more of Thor as the thunder god pounds into him.

“Faster,” Natasha gasps as Clint’s hands wrap around to play with her breasts, then, “Fuck, yes, there!”

“Hey, eyes on me,” Steve says and Tony can’t tell whether it’s dominating or not, but he obeys anyway.

It almost feels weird, taking orders from the super-soldier after he made such a big deal of it when they first met, but Tony barely starts to think about it before his pants are down and Steve’s hand is closing over his cock and then there’s nothing but sensation.

Normally Tony is the one giving, fucking into his partner until they’re begging for more, but this time _he’s_ the one crying for more from Steve, asking and asking, even as he kisses him again and again, on the mouth, on the shoulder, on any skin he can reach.

He falls forward as he comes all over Steve’s hand, suddenly boneless. “Fuck,” is all he can say for a moment, gathering his breath. He sits up and Steve makes eye contact with him suddenly and then, deliberately, licks his hand clean one finger at a time.

It’s the hottest thing Tony’s ever seen, even if he isn’t sure why and then he’s kneeling in front of Steve, undoing his pants. “Damn, the serum _worked,_ ” is all he can think to mutter.

Steve laughs, his voice low, and he runs his hand through Tony’s hair. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, and Tony’s heart skips a beat.

He isn’t sure why – it might be the soulbond – but this is the most meaningful sex he’s ever had, he’s sure of it. There’s a cry from across the room, low and feminine, and he registers _Natasha_ faintly in the back of his mind, and then all that he can think about is Steve’s cock.

He’s in the middle of giving the best blowjob he can while Steve’s hand in circling through his hair and all he wants to do is spread his legs and beg for Steve the way Bruce is begging for Thor, when suddenly another hand reaches from behind him and starts to stroke him off.

He almost chokes, and there’s a laugh as Natasha apologizes. Her strokes are firm and smooth, and Tony nearly comes in the middle of trying to make Steve come. There’s a muffled curse from above Tony and Steve’s hand stutters to a stop and clenches in Tony’s hair.

It’s oddly hot – Tony’s never been into the whole hair-pulling thing before, but this would have brought him to his knees if he wasn’t already on them – and then Thor’s voice reaches him from somewhere above Steve’s head. “Relax,” the Asgardian instructs, and then Steve’s keening low in his throat and coming in Tony’s mouth.

Natasha speeds up and then Tony’s slumping forward onto Steve’s chest, his second orgasm ripping through him. This one is just as strong and mind-blowing and he’s absolutely convinced it’s the soulbond, because, as his head touches his own soulmark on Steve’s chest, a tingling sensation runs through him from head to toe. “Fuck,” he whispers again.

Across the room, Bruce is also coming and so is Clint from the sound of it. “This is amazing,” the archer gasps, and Bruce gasps in agreement.

Tony sits back in Natasha’s lap, and she presses an oddly tender kiss to his hairline. “ _Moy malen’kiy kotenok,_ ” she whispers, and under other circumstances Tony would have been upset at being called a kitten, but it’s an apt comparison right now, so he closes his eyes and lets her run her hands through his hair.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t know who he’s talking to – if it’s all of them or one of them in particular – but he doesn’t care either.

“I love you too,” Natasha says back, and this is a side of the notorious Black Widow few have ever seen and lived to tell about.

Bruce walks over on shaky legs and collapses against Natasha’s side, his head on her shoulder. She takes one hand out of Tony’s hair and tilts Bruce’s head up to kiss him on the lips. It’s reminiscent of the kiss between Steve and Thor that started everything, a soft, kind give and take with no expectations attached.

Clint sits down on Natasha’s other side, and then all four of them sit in a pile watching Steve and Thor in front of them. Both the demigod and the super-soldier have extreme stamina, but it’s still Steve who comes first. Thor follows him soon after, fingers digging so deeply into Steve’s hips that Tony suspects there will be bruises in the morning.

Tony’s refractory period is almost over, though, and he’s starting get hard again. Clint notices, and looks over at Tony before getting up and kneeling in front of him. Tony moves down until only his head is still resting in Natasha’s lap. “It’s okay,” she says, even though they both know Tony wants this.

Clint starts slow, inserting one finger into Tony and rubbing in a slow circle as he captures Tony’s mouth in a kiss that’s somewhere between domineering and crushingly soft. His lips are velvety and his tongue is almost as gentle as his fingers.

Tony whines, moving his hips up to meet Clint’s finger, and the archer obligingly adds a second. Tony isn’t a stranger to male-on-male liaisons, and while Steve is Adonis, Clint is the type of effortless sexy that makes it look like he’s never trying too hard, even when he is.

Natasha recognizes it, and looks at Clint with undisguised lust before turning her head and kissing Bruce again. She isn’t going easy on him, and Bruce doesn’t seem to mind from the way his cock is hardening.

Tony manages to take in the details, even though his vision is almost whiting out with the way Clint is _so close_ to hitting his prostate. “Fuck,” he gasps, the only word he’s been able to conjure for a while.

Clint smirks. “As you wish,” and then he’s no longer kissing, instead inside Tony and _wow_ if Tony hadn’t known he was here in the Tower with his head in Natasha’s lap and Clint’s hands on his waist, he would have thought he’d died and gone to heaven. If Steve’s handjob was fireworks, this is bombs going off inside his skull.

He’s able to hold it off for long enough to Clint’s orgasm to hit, and then he’s spilling all over his own stomach, painting Bruce’s soulmark white.

“I love you,” he mutters again, but now there’s no mistaking who he’s talking about from the way he’s staring at Clint. He pushes himself up on shaking arms and kisses Clint again.

Both Steve and Thor look like they’re ready for another round, and from the expression on Natasha’s face, so is she. Standing up, she walks over to them. Thor kneels in front of her and starts eating her out with enthusiasm, while Steve moves behind her.

Tony wouldn’t have pinned Steve as a guy who knows why anal is, much less double penetration, but, before this evening, he didn’t think Mr. I-Grew-Up-in-the-Forties even knew how to kiss a guy, much less be good at it. Chalking it up to life being full of surprises, he moves Clint to Bruce and brings the scientist in for a kiss.

Bruce’s lips are drier than Clint’s, and he’s also shyer than the archer, but he makes up for it in the way his hands skim feather-light over Tony’s skin. Bruce runs his fingers over Tony’s scars, both the old ones from Howard and the new ones from Afghanistan and after. He stops at a few He of them, but Tony shakes his head and slips his tongue forward a little.

Behind them, Clint moans, apparently enjoying the scene, and Tony pushes forward towards Bruce. He takes Bruce’s cock in his hand and begins to stroke, bringing him to full hardness in only a few minutes. Tony hasn’t figured out whether the quick refractory periods that they all seem to share are the soulmate bonds or not, but he doesn’t really care.

Clint comes with a gasping curse a few minutes later, and so does Natasha, rocking forward into Thor’s gasp. Steve moves with her, crying her name in what Tony assumes to be Gaelic as he comes too. It’s beautiful, and Tony allows himself a moment to enjoy the sight while he kisses Bruce again.

“Ready for round two?” Clint whispers into Tony’s ear, and Tony nods desperately, because who is he to turn down sex with his soulmate? Bruce comes on his hand as Clint pushes into him in a moment of synchronization Tony wishes he could fully appreciate. Instead, he gives in to his urge and comes all over himself and Bruce.

Natasha, who’s giving an excellent blowjob to Steve while Thor is pushing into him from behind, winks at Clint and signs something that makes him start to curse and then bury his teeth in Tony’s shoulder as he comes.

Like the hair-pulling, it’s not something Tony’s usually into, but everything this night is just so fucking _hot_ he can’t stop himself from winding his hand through Bruce’s hair and pulling him for another kiss.

Apparently Tony’s been too busy to realize it, but when Thor comes, it’s with a clap of thunder that shakes the Tower windows and a bolt of lightning that streaks across the otherwise clear black sky. He sits ungracefully, pulling Steve and Natasha down with him and all three of them are sitting on the floor when Steve comes for the last time.

It’s the last orgasm of the night, as, apparently everyone is too sexed-out to handle any more. They stare at each other, hands resting on bodies and in hair and hands, just enjoying the company. Something has changed in the room; they can all feel that the tension has dissipated and now there’s a sense of togetherness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there may be another chapter to this when bucky joins the team but for now this work is basically complete.
> 
> edit: as you can see, this work is not complete. it'll probably end up being pretty long, but most likely won't have an overarching plot. we'll see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Natasha/Clint/Tony. also there isn't much sex in this chapter sorry. it's there just no front and centre like last chapter.
> 
> Warnings for mention of nightmares, panic attacks, and a very slight mention of vomiting.

_He’s holding Natasha’s head in his hands as she kneels in front of him. It would be so easy to snap her neck, end her life as simply as blowing out a match. Somewhere, vaguely, he recognized he shouldn’t feel this indifferent._

_“No,” Natasha whispers, looking up at him. Her hair falls onto her shoulders like fire in the dark. “No, please, don’t.” There are tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, and she stares at him in desperation as she begs for her life._

_He considers her for a moment, and then, easily, with no effort at all, he twists his hands violently to the side. Natasha slumps in his hands and he lets her lifeless body fall to the ground._

“ ** _No!”_** Clint sits up with a shout, chest heaving and face wet with tears. “No,” he whispers again, raking his hands through his hair.

“Shh,” Natasha croons softly, sitting up beside him in bed. Her eyes are sleep-soft, and her hair is down, but Clint feels his stomach turn as he looks at her.

_Natasha slumps in his hands. Her eyes are still open, and she looks at him blankly as he drops her corpse carelessly on the floor._

“No, no, no no no no nonono,” Clint repeats in a rising crescendo of horror. Feeling his stomach turn violently with the image still behind his eyes, he rips his covers off and bolts for the bathroom.

Vomiting doesn’t help – it never does – and when he sits back, flushing the mess down the toilet, Natasha is beside him. “Which one is it this time?” she asks, knowing all too well the litany of horrors in his mind as well as her own.

Clint drops his head into his hands, still silently crying. “You,” he whispers hoarsely.

Natasha swears softly in Russian, and then puts one hand on his shoulder. It’s an open palm, a sign that she doesn’t mean him harm, and Clint leans into her. He can hurt her, but Natasha would never do anything to him. She’s safe.

They sit like that for a long moment, and then there’s the sound of footsteps and a gentle knock on the door. “Everything okay in there?” Tony calls, his voice soft.

“Nightmares,” Natasha answers shortly, and then Tony’s in the bathroom with them, sitting beside Natasha.

“J, dim the lights,” he orders, and the brightness drops significantly. “Better?” Tony asks, crossing his legs under him.

Clint nods slowly, realizing the barely noticeable pounding in his head has disappeared with the darkening of the room. Tony looks relieved. “Great. That always works for me.” He’s still wearing an old AC/DC t-shirt that’s stained with oil and dirt and other things Clint isn’t sure he wants to know the origin of.

“Were you in the workshop?” Natasha asks, her tone starting sharp but fading partway through. All of them understood the torment of nightmares, and they all had different ways of dealing with them.

Tony shrugged, his carefree mask in place. “I just had to do a little check-up on Dum-E, and then the alert went off for your room and I was already awake, you know?”

“Alert?” Clint asks.

“Yeah,” Tony fidgets a little, almost nervously. “Jarvis monitors the health of everyone in the Tower anyway, so I told him to alert me if any of you were sick or hurt.” He looks at Natasha and Clint, his face a blend of concern and kindness. “We’re soulmates, after all.”

“Thanks,” Clint says. It’s all he can say at the moment, the simple caring behind the act too difficult to unravel right now.

“No problem,” Tony says easily.

“Let’s go back to bed,” Natasha says, her voice still soft. Her hand moves from his back to his arm and she helps him up. The bedroom is dark, but still easy to navigate and soon they make it to the bed, Tony trailing after them.

“Come join us,” Clint offers, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s fine,” Tony says, taking a step back. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all.” He laughs a little, brushing off the offer, but it’s a little too brittle and Clint’s reminded of his nightmares again, and the reason he and Natasha always share a bed.

“Get in,” Natasha says, ending the discussion with two words said and many more implied.

Soon, Tony’s settled on one side of Clint with Natasha on the other. It’s dark and quiet, and Clint closes his eyes with his soulmates on either side of him, keeping him safe.  

***

It’s light out when Clint wakes up again, his sleep entirely dreamless. He rolls over, and finds Tony still sleeping. His shirt has ridden up, and Clint can see his soulmark – an elegant arrow – curving over the engineer’s hipbone. Ducking down, Clint kisses the mark lightly.

There’s a dry chuckle from behind him, and Clint rolls over to see Natasha watching him. He smiles, unable to be embarrassed around her, and kisses her as well. It quickly turns heated, and soon he’s practically sitting in her lap, one hand holding her head with her hair running over his fingers.

_He’s holding Natasha’s head as she kneels in front of him, her hair like fire in the dark._

“Shit,” he gasps, breaking the kiss. “Nat, I’m sorry, so so sorry.” The memories of his dream flash through his mind and he shakes his head again. “So sorry.”

Natasha stays where she is, holding out a hand. “Breathe,” she says softly. “There’s no nightmare. I’m here, I’m safe, you didn’t do anything.”

Clint recognizes her words, but he’s on the verge of panic and they don’t really mean anything to him. The sentences bounce off of him without impact and he kneels on the end of the bed, trying to get enough air into his lungs to say anything.

Suddenly, there’s another person with Clint. Tony kneels in front of him, hair sticking up at odd angles. “Focus on me,” he says, “and breathe. In,” he says, exaggerating his breathing as much as possible with the arc reactor in his chest, “and out. In and out. In and out.”

It takes a while, but Clint’s finally able to calm down, his heartbeat no longer racing in his ears, drowning out everything around him. The textures of the blankets come back and he’s able to relax his fingers from where they’re clenching the sheets so tightly they’re turning white “Th-thank you,” he says, wrapping his arms around Natasha and Tony. They’re solid and warm, and hot tears start to build behind his eyes again.

“No problem,” Tony says with a small smile.

Natasha doesn’t say anything, but she hugs Clint harder, her touch reassuring. “I’m here,” she says. Not ‘you’re safe’ or ‘it won’t happen again’ or any other truths that sound like lies, only two words heavy with meaning.

Tony pulls away after a moment; he loves sex, but gentler touches are more difficult for him to accept and most of the time he’ll only cuddle just before falling asleep. Natasha re-adjusts herself so Clint can lean against her, and interlocks their fingers. She’s the closest thing to a girlfriend he’ll ever have, even if he has four other soulmates, and he loves her for it.

“I love you both,” Clint says, a little tired again.

“What time is it?” Tony asks, laying down in the bed again.

“It is currently a quarter past six in the morning, sir,” Jarvis answers from the ceiling.

Natasha rolls her eyes, falling backwards into her pillow. “What time was sunrise, bloody midnight?” she snaps without much anger.

“Approximately five-thirty in the morning, Miss Romanov,” the A.I. says.

Clint lays back down again, but even though he feels tired, he isn’t sleepy, and he suspects the others feel the same. After a long few moments, he swears he can feel the sun even through the blinds, and, a few minutes after that, Tony rolls towards them with a smirk.

“Morning-after sex?”

Natasha props herself up on one elbow. “We didn’t have sex last night.”

Tony shrugs. “Yeah, but I highly doubt any of us are going back to bed,” he points out, before leaning over and kissing Clint on the corner of his mouth.

It’s oddly romantic, coming from Tony, and Clint wants it to continue. Putting one hand on the back of the engineer’s neck, Clint brings him down for another kiss, on the lips this time. He makes it slow, breathing through his nose as much as possible, and running his hands through Tony’s hair as he runs his tongue around his lips.

Beside them, there’s a small gasp and Clint knows Natasha’s watching. He breaks the kiss and turns his head to look at her. “Enjoying the show?”

She chuckles, leaning over him to kiss Tony. _So much,_ her hand says as it edges lower on his waist.

“Damn,” Tony says after a minute, his lips slightly puffy. Natasha leans back, looking pleased with herself. “So we’re really doing this?” the engineer continues, one hand weaving through Clint’s hair again – or possibly still, Clint’s sort of lost track.

“We’re all awake, it’s an ungodly hour of the morning, and there’s no immediate emergencies,” Natasha says with a shrug.

Clint pushes himself to a sitting position and brings Natasha in for another kiss. Her hair brushes his cheek, and he flinches the smallest amount, ready for the terror to resurge.

“Okay?” Natasha murmurs, her breath warm against his ear when she turns her head.

“Okay,” he responds, when he doesn’t feel anything but aroused. He kisses a trail from her cheekbone down to the corner of her mouth. Her skin is soft, and even though _delicate_ is the last word anyone in the world would use to describe Natasha Romanov, it fits the porcelain beauty of her face in this moment.

Natasha falls backwards, bringing Clint with her and they continue kissing, hands exploring each other’s bodies, tracing every scar and imperfection precisely.

There’s a moan from behind them and Clint looks over his shoulder to see Tony holding his cock in his hand. He smiles, giving them an encouraging nod that says _keep going._

Following Clint’s line of sight, Natasha reaches out one of her hands. “Come join us,” she says. She isn’t using her seductive voice, the one that promises pleasure and ends in pain. She’s using her own voice that promises love and asks for nothing in return and Clint loves her for it.

***

Their love-making isn’t fast. It isn’t a rush of heady pleasure leaving them gasping and sore at the end. Their bodies move together and apart, in pairs and singly, and the sky outside lightens as they come together again and again.

It’s like waking up to a song that becomes louder the longer it’s listened to, and Clint buries his face in Natasha’s shoulder, her hair flowing over him like water instead of the flame of his dreams. He breathes the scent of her in as Tony rides out his aftershocks from where he’s buried inside the archer.

They move apart, Clint resting his head on Natasha’s shoulder as he pulls out of her. “I love you,” he whispers, not quite sure whether he’s speaking to both of them or just one.

Natasha whispers back to him in Russian, and Tony reaffirms the sentiment as he eases out of Clint. They lay side-by-side, limbs and bodies overlapping as they listen to each other’s breathing and heartbeats as the city comes alive beneath them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update; college life got in the way. Also, this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but hopefully the next one will make up for it!
> 
> Bruce/Thor in this chapter; no warnings.

There are days when Bruce hates being the Hulk, hates the constant refrain of another personality inside his head. It grates on him, and he squeezes his eyes shut and regulates his breathing and doesn’t speak to anyone else for hours.

But there are also days when he doesn’t mind the Hulk so much, doesn’t feel the pressure like a firecracker ready to explode inside his skull. He can just relax and not worry about destroying anyone or anything around him.

Those days are becoming more common since The Night. Everyone speaks about it in all capitals, but it isn’t because it was a bad thing. Just special.

Today is one of those days.

Bruce sucks in a breath, leaning against his lab bench, as Thor trails his lips along his collarbone. The demigod knows exactly where to touch Bruce and with exactly the right amount of pressure like it was an innate sense, and Bruce leans into the touch, the Hulk quiet the way he only is whenever Bruce is around his soulmates.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Bruce mutters, aware that there are cameras in the labs.

“Do you not feel comfortable?” Thor asks, lifting his head and looking Bruce in the eye.

Ignoring the urge to say, _it’s fine,_ Bruce looks towards the door. “I was wondering,” he begins, wishing the words were easier to get out, “if we could take this to my room?”

“Of course!” Thor says with a grin. He lifts one of Bruce’s hands and kisses the back of it like a princess in a fairy tale, leading him towards the doors.

***

For an alien thousands of years old, Thor is surprisingly gentle. Bruce braces himself – trying to convince himself he doesn’t know what for – but Thor simply stands by the door, waiting for him to make the first move.

“After you,” he says, gesturing to the door.

Bruce swallows and nods, feeling uncomfortably like this is all a sham. Maybe Thor will realize this isn’t how things typically work and will start taking charge, or maybe he’ll get fed up with Bruce’s shyness and abandon it all. They had sex That Night, but it was different, with feelings and hormones running high, and now, when things aren’t so emotionally charged, Bruce isn’t sure what to expect.

He walks into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what comes next. Part of him is telling him to stop being stupid, that Thor isn’t really interested in him like _that_ and their soulmarks are just coincidence. Thor follows him, closing the door behind them.

“Master Jarvis,” he says, looking at the ceiling, “please cease your activity.”

“Certainly,” Jarvis replies, the tiny red light on the external camera Tony installed for Bruce’s peace of mind blinking off. Bruce knows Jarvis is still recording their vital signs, but the visual recording has stopped for now and that’s what matters.

What he doesn’t know is why Thor asked Jarvis to stop. He’s not shy at all, and cameras don’t matter to him hardly at all. Running one hand through his hair Bruce stares at the floor between his feet, not sure where to start. He definitely wants this, wants _Thor,_ but the words aren’t coming and he can start to feel the Hulk rumbling gently at the base of his skull.

Thor continues walking towards the bed and Bruce is thinking of how exactly to formulate the sentence he wants to say when Thor kneels between his legs. His blue eyes are the colour of a summer sky just before a thunderstorm as he looks up at Bruce.

“Tell me if you do not want this,” he says, and then he’s unzipping Bruce’s pants.

The hand on his cock feels good and Bruce makes a small noise of satisfaction as Thor brings it out completely. “Keep going,” he says, one hand closing around the covers on the bed.  

Ever so gently, Thor takes Bruce’s cock in his mouth. It’s obvious that he’s an expert at giving head, and Bruce moans at the sensation of being deep-throated. He gasps, his other hand landing on Thor’s shoulder as he lurches forward. “Don’t stop.”

It’s exactly what he wanted, and the insecurity is ebbing, driven away by Thor’s confidence and the look he gives Bruce whenever they make eye contact. He _wants_ to do this, it isn’t something he’s feeling pressured into because they share a soulmark. The thought makes Bruce laugh, and Thor smiles as well, raking his teeth lightly over the scientist’s dick.

“Thank you,” Bruce says, out of breath. He doesn’t try to explain the statement – he isn’t even sure what he means by it, honestly, there are too many things it encompasses – and a minute later he’s ready to come.

He manages to warn Thor and the demigod leans back just in time, his hands resting on Bruce’s inner thighs. “Would you like to continue?” he asks, apparently indifferent to his newly-stained shirt.

Bruce doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes,” he says honestly. Sex, in his experience, isn’t supposed to have this many questions, but he finds he doesn’t mind it.

Thor’s smile grows even bigger and he strips off his shirt in one easy motion. Gently pushing Bruce back onto the bed, he starts kissing him again.

There’s a dynamic between the two of them that’s so different from the others. Tony is quick and fast, light on his feet as his mind works furiously at whatever project he’s occupied in. Natasha is hard sometimes and soft others, her guard being let down slowly before slamming into place again unpredictably –

The Hulk begins to assert himself even louder in the back of Bruce’s mind, interrupting his train of thought as Thor presses him further into the bed. “Not now,” he gasps, shaking his head slightly.

Thor stops immediately, sitting up onto his knees. “What is wrong?” he asks.

Bruce sighs heavily, hating the Hulk again. “It’s the Other Guy,” he says, looking anywhere but Thor’s eyes.

There’s half a beat of silence, and then the demigod laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says, cupping the side of Bruce’s face in one hand. “I love him as well.”

 _No you don’t,_ Bruce wants to say. _You don’t know what that means. It’s impossible._ He can’t force any words out, so he simply stares at Thor. “What?” he finally manages to say. “He’s a _monster._ ”

Thor hums, running the fingers of his hand through Bruce’s hair. “He has saved us all,” he says, pressing a feather-light kiss to Bruce’s neck.

Bruce knows Thor isn’t wrong, and he can feel the Hulk’s emotions shift from annoyance to confusion almost in time with his. “I don’t understand,” he says, and this time he can feel the thinnest sliver of the Hulk in his voice.

Thor sighs, but not in a frustrated way. “Know this,” he says, starting to undo the buttons on Bruce’s shirt one by one. “The Hulk is not our enemy. He is a part of you, and you are a part of him. Therefore, both of you are my soulmates.” He undoes the last button and spreads out Bruce’s shirt around him. “Therefore,” he murmurs, running a finger lightly around one of Bruce’s nipples, “I love you both.”

 _Love._ Bruce can count on two hands how many people have said that to him, and more than half of those are his soulmates. It still doesn’t diminish the thrill that runs down his spine at the words. “Thank you,” he says again.

Thor smiles, his eyes again dark with lust as he leans forward and runs his tongue and teeth over Bruce’s nipple. The unfamiliar feeling makes Bruce’s toes curl, and he stutters out a gasp, hands already working on getting his pants the rest of the way off.

It doesn’t take long until both of them are mostly naked, Thor pausing only long enough to take off his own pants. They’re also both hard, Bruce’s refractory period long since over. Moaning into Thor’s mouth, he arches his back, pressing hard into the demigod’s thigh. “Fuck me,” he says roughly, the rumble of the Hulk’s voice underlaying the profanity.

Thor’s smile is almost a smirk as he grins down at Bruce. “As you wish,” he says, and Bruce wonders if he’s going to fantasize about the _Princess Bride_ after this.

He can feel the Hulk again, pushing towards the surface. He’s pretty sure if he could see himself in a mirror right now, his skin would be tinged with green. This doesn’t feel like it usually does, though, like he’s losing control and the coin of awareness is being flipped to the other side. Instead, it’s like the coin managed to balance on its edge, and both he and the Hulk can feel everything.

Bruce is lost in the perfect agreement of emotion as Thor presses into him, he and the Hulk shouting in unison as Thor’s other hand closes around Bruce’s cock. Bruce is the first to come, stifling his shout by pressing his mouth into Thor’s. It’s a hard kiss, all teeth and tongue and it’s the kind of thing Bruce never imagined enjoying, but this is all he wants right now and he can’t get enough of Thor.

***

They lie in bed, the afterglow fading slowly. Thor is spooning Bruce and it’s one of the most comforting things he’s ever experienced. The demigod’s arm is over his chest, their hands linked together, and Bruce can feel Thor’s heartbeat as well as his own.

He turns his head a little so he can look into Thor’s eyes. “I forgot to tell you earlier,” he says. “I love you.”

Thor laughs quietly, the sound happy and light. “I love you, too,” he replies.

Bruce’s soulmark tingles as Thor runs his hand over it, and for once the Hulk isn’t quiet but he doesn’t mind. It’s an odd feeling, slightly uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity, but it’s one Bruce feels that he can get used to.

“I didn’t think I could ever get used to this,” he muses out loud, already on the edge of sleep. “Thank you,” he repeats yet again.

Thor’s only response is to cuddle even closer to Bruce, like he’s an oversized golden retriever. If he murmurs anything, the scientist is too close to sleep to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this story will be updated periodically - not on a schedule or anything, though - and will focus on one or two pairings per chapter. it is most definitely not over.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of an oddity; it features Darcy and it takes place chronologically around the same time as chapter 1- not that time means much in this story - so anything weird about Natasha or her behaviour in this chapter should be viewed in light of that - feel free to ask for clarification in the comments.

 

Darcy has a soulmate she’s never met. She also has a crush on Natasha Romanov and she doesn’t like spending too much time wondering whether those things are incompatible. The red hourglass that covers her belly button isn’t very hard to cover up so that’s good, but she’s gotten tired of looking at it every day and wondering when she’ll meet the mysterious person who’s represented by it. The ideal situation would be if Natasha was her soulmate, but the odds of that happening are so small she doesn’t even want to ask Jane to calculate them. 

Not that Jane would have time these days. After they came back from Norway, she threw herself into her work with the Bifrost and wormholes and whatever else she worked on when Darcy wasn’t after her to get enough sleep, food, and water.

There’s a phone ringing somewhere in their apartment and Darcy groans, pulling her pillow over her head. It’s six a.m. and even if she’s been up for God-knows-how-long contemplating her lack of soulmate there are _standards._ “Fuck off,” she mutters into the cloth, but when the noise doesn’t stop she forces herself to get up and find the stupid thing.

“Hello?” she mumbles inarticulately into the phone after finding it on the shoe rack right next to the front door, because etiquette be damned it’s _six o’clock_ in the freaking morning.

It’s just a telemarketer, which makes Darcy curse herself even more for getting out of her cozy bed to answer the phone, but when she turns around there’s a woman standing just inside the doorframe and it’s _her._ Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, in the flesh.

“I heard you have a soulmark,” she says in a sultry voice and Darcy almost squeaks.

“Uh, yes,” she says, sounding like she’s on helium and probably blushing redder than a tomato, standing there in her oversized pajama shirt and bedhead. “Why are you here?”

Natasha shrugs. “Why not?” she asks and usually Darcy would tell someone off for a smart-ass answer like that but not now.

“I heard you were busy,” she says, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the other woman’s face and away from her chest where her suit is zipped open to show some _really_ nice cleavage that Darcy would absolutely love to –

“ – back in this part of the country and I figured why not stop and see my soulmate?” Natasha finishes and Darcy realizes with a stab of embarrassment that she wasn’t listening at all.

She opens her mouth to say something smart or flirty that won’t shove her foot further into her mouth. “Do you have my soulmark?”

Natasha looks slightly taken aback by that and Darcy immediately starts back-tracking. “It’s fine either way – really it is – I’ve just always had a crush on you and now you’re here, in my kitchen, and you say you’re my soulmate and it’s kind of weird having the person you always wanted to fu-“

She shuts up just in time, but Natasha cracks a smile anyway. “No,” she says after a half-second of silence. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Darcy says, skipping right over the sting of having a non-requited soulmark. She can ponder that later and anyway her soulmate _is_ Natasha Romanov after all, so maybe splitting hairs like that doesn’t really matter.

 Natasha takes a step forward, backing Darcy against the wall as she does so. “Can I see?” she asks, still looking a little out of her comfort zone, like a kid who wandered too close to the deep end at a swimming pool.

“Sure.” Darcy is more than happy to take off her shirt for Natasha and it isn’t until it’s halfway off that she remembers they’re in sight of the living room. Where there are curtainless windows. “Maybe we should go somewhere else?” she suggests, one arm hanging awkwardly out of its sleeve.

Natasha smiles, halfway between a seductress and a girlfriend. “How about your bedroom?”

It’s a good thing Jane sleeps like the dead because Darcy practically loses the ability to walk the short hallway between the two rooms knowing that her soulmate is right behind her and eager to see her take her shirt off.

Once they’re in Darcy’s bedroom, the door hastily shut behind them, Darcy finishes pulling her shirt over her head and drops it to the floor along with the other growing laundry piles. Natasha steps forward and bends down to trace the outline of her mark on Darcy’s stomach.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, looking up with an almost wonder-like expression in her eyes.

Darcy’s never noticed how long Natasha’s eyelashes were or the exact shade of her eyes and especially not the sensual curve of her lips. “So are you,” she says back, her brain-to-mouth filter short-circuiting like there’s no tomorrow.

Natasha stands up and traces her thumb down the curve of Darcy’s cheek. “If I’m beautiful, what does that make you?” she murmurs, drawing their lips together for a kiss.

It’s heated but slow, the kind of kiss that makes Darcy’s toes curl and her spine tingle. It’s the kind of kiss she’s never had anyone do properly, not even in her first years of college, and she’s almost light-headed when Natasha pulls back.

“More,” she whispers, and Natasha laughs deep in her throat.

She doesn’t remember much of what happens after Natasha pulls her in for another kiss, only that they end up lying on her bed both of them stripped to the waist and making out like hormonal teenagers. Natasha rolls one of Darcy’s nipples between her fingers and Darcy arches her back, one hand already going to her clit.

“Wait.” Natasha’s voice is commanding and Darcy stops, seeing the look in her eyes.

“Okay,” she gasps, running her hand through the other woman’s hair instead where it curls just under her ear.

Natasha doesn’t say anything, just sits back between Darcy’s legs and slowly reaches for the waistband of her grey sweatpants. They’re already sitting low, but Natasha practically makes a game of pulling them down inch by inch. She trails her fingers feather-lightly over Darcy’s skin as she does, running her nails along her inner thighs with just enough pressure to raise goosebumps on Darcy’s skin.

“Hurry up,” Darcy pleads, feeling her underwear get wetter with every motion Natasha takes. “Please!”

The look Natasha gives her is an electrifying mix of sex and danger. “I’ll do what I want,” she murmurs, “and you’ll lie there and take it.”

 _Oh, shit._ The words send another tingle down Darcy’s spine and she wants so badly to slip her hand between her legs and make herself come. She doesn’t, though. She forces her hands to stay where they are, one on the bed and one on Natasha’s shoulder, and tries not to think about the sweep of the agent’s lashes or the way her head tilts as she edges Darcy’s underwear down and off onto the floor.

It’s too late; all it takes is one of Natasha’s fingers on Darcy’s clit and she’s coming. The other woman fixes her with a stern look. “Did I tell you that you could come?” she says.

“No,” Darcy says, thoroughly out of breath.

“Hmm,” Natasha muses, rubbing slow circles around Darcy’s vagina. “What do you think I should do about that?”

Darcy shrugs. She’s never gone this far into the scene before, most of her “experimenting” being with vanilla guys who were too afraid to admit they liked not having all the control in bed. “Let me kiss you?” she suggests cheekily.

Natasha laughs, her demeanor shifting suddenly. “All right,” she agrees, leaning down and pressing their lips together. She doesn’t let it last long, leaning back after a couple seconds. Her hands are still moving, two fingers slipping inside of Darcy while her thumb lightly massages her clit.

It’s just the right amount of stimulation, and when Natasha leans forward and whispers, “ _Now_ you can come,” in her ear, Darcy does just that, rolling her hips forward against Natasha’s hand while stars explode behind her eyes for the second time.

Wanting to return the favour, she sits up on her knees – as soon as she’s sure they’ll hold her – and shuffles to one side. “My turn,” she says with a smile.

Natasha shakes her head, a look in her eyes that on a battlefield would probably be classified as calculating. “I have a better idea.” Laying down on the bed where Darcy was just a moment before, she gestures to her. “Have you ever eaten someone out before?”

Despite her reputation in certain circles, Darcy has never gone any further than second base with a girl, although she’s an adult with a functioning Internet connection so she gets on her hands and knees, hovering just over Natasha’s face.

After it’s all over, Darcy figures it’s probably the worst oral sex Natasha’s ever had, but she comes from it, so it probably counts as a success.  

“Come here,” Natasha says, her voice husky and eyes half-lidded. It could be seductive, but, judging by how Darcy’s feeling, she’s probably just tired. It _is_ not even nine in the morning.

Darcy crawls up beside her and half-collapses on the mattress, her limbs still shaky. “That was amazing,” she yawns, curling close to the other woman.

Natasha hums in agreement, smoothing one hand down Darcy’s hair. “I did hope you would enjoy yourself,” she murmurs.


End file.
